


Old Wounds

by Lythlyra



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lythlyra/pseuds/Lythlyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years and years, and Fenris is still the worst patient Anders ever has -- worse than difficult children, than gaping wounds and wails of pain. (Fenris/Anders slash)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Wounds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neonowls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonowls/gifts).



> Inspired by the prompt [break](http://dragonageinaword.tumblr.com/post/16075352128/prompts-week-three) at In a Word, this is for Neon in thanks for her gift art. Also, happy Fenders Friday.

Years and years, and Fenris is still the worst patient Anders ever has -- worse than difficult children, than gaping wounds and wails of pain.

It's the quiet, the cautious eyes that observe and follow, what Anders imagines is the endless judgment that Fenris has down to such a fine, fine art, that warns off magic where it isn't necessary. There's a bone out of place, cleanly in two and jutting at an awkward angle beneath lyrium-skin, and it's _still_ the same.

Unnerving is what it is.

There are hisses and winces, the flexing of his jaw, clawed fingers that dig too far into the worn cot, and stares that Anders does his best to avoid, but he sets the bone, he heals it into place and valiantly ignores the lyrium that hums in response, and he escapes without any breaks of his own.

All things considered, it's the smoothest it ever goes, and he wishes he could say that means it's also the easiest.

It isn't.

"You're welcome," Anders says later, as Fenris slides a hand back into his gauntlet, even though there is no _thanks_ , and he knows better than to think there will be one.

In fact, there are only the straps of leather and metal being fastened into place, the flex of fingers and an arm as they fit and readjust to more than just the gauntlet but the healing as well, and Anders wonders why he isn't gone already.

"What?" he finally asks when impatience gets the better of him.

"It is different." The frown at just the corners of his mouth can mean anything with Fenris, and Anders isn't particularly in the mood to guess. It's too uncomfortable like this.

"Different how?"

He thinks he's asking too much, and he doesn't think that he really cares, except for the fact that he's curious. It's a healer's interest, he reassures himself, wanting to know that he isn't making things worse in the process of attempting to make them better.

"There was an old wound." And Fenris is watching the play of muscle and bone in his own arm as he speaks, the pucker between his eyebrows deeper, more puzzled.

Anders never knows until then. Fenris carries the weight of the sword and the tempo of battle as if it's something natural, something that simply is. Only someone as stubborn as the blighted elf would do it with an arm that's a source of pain long before it's ever broken.

He wouldn't hear the end of it if he let him go now. "Well, you're already here. You might as well let me look again."

"No." This is more familiar, the even glare and the immediate dismissal, a relief in itself. "It is... gone."

Gone. Healed along with the bone, then.

"Oh," is all Anders can manage. Really, what else is there? _Sorry for healing you_?

What follows is one of the least comfortable silences he ever experiences, persisting until Fenris takes up his sword, as long as he is tall, and finally leaves.

The pulse of lyrium is lesser and lesser with each footstep, and Anders imagines he can map Fenris' path with his awareness of it alone. Eventually, the traces of energy are gone in much the same way that Fenris is.

In his absence, the disquiet refuses to leave, and no amount of shuffling through supplies and putting items back into their places changes it. The solitude that seems so inviting moments earlier feels too close to stifling now.

With no small amount of frustration, he wonders how it is that Fenris manages to complicate even this.


End file.
